


breaks

by cykelops



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, M/M, crappy angst, ♠
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cykelops/pseuds/cykelops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the many side-memories that might have not happened or never truly mattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breaks

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy i was off it when i wrote this

More often than not it's the small exchanges that make you think the most.

He can be a little too vicious when he attacks you, and your bites can get more predatory than they are sexual, he may come to you in the midst of a migraine and curse at you until his throat goes sore, but that you can both forget and forgive. Other things make your jaw clench and your expression grow more frustrated with time. 

_Once you threaten to cull him in the midst of a fight and his playfulness drains out of his face and turns into a side-smile as he says:_

_"You could never kill me."_

_You paused, confused._

_"You have too much confidence on your brain-lights, Psii. Just because you’re strong—"_

_He shakes his head and paps your cheek, looking at you like you’re a clueless child and he knows the key to unlocking the universe._

_“You could never bring yourself to do it. Idiot."_

Psiioniic comes and goes as he pleases but you always know when he's near.

He likes to show off, for you and your crew both. It has nearly gotten him killed before, when one of your newbies saw the yellowblood walking on water without seeing the red-blue discs under his feet and was daring enough to shoot him but too frightened to aim right. Now that you think of it, you have almost gotten him killed many times, even though your subconscious would tell you it has always been his fault. Whether he has had a near-death experience by your hand or someone else’s, it somehow always seems to be connected to you directly or by association.

Only when he’s become your favorite thing to hate do you realize how fragile a lowblood’s existence is in the world you live in, but you can't truly care for any gutterblood that's not him. You would rather cut off all contact and sail halfway across the planet to get away rather than see him dead by any hand but your’s- but like he says, _you_ could never do it. Just as you could never get over your general disgust towards the warmblood population, and you can never be in the same side.

You have entertained thoughts of pushing him out of your life forever, but the one day you decide it’s time to go -with a fuck and a fleeting kiss as your last goodbye- the drones break into his hive. They claimed to be hunting the rumored powerful psychic that had caused the empire plenty of trouble, and you have never in your life been so thankful for the violet in your veins that kept him from becoming a breathing battery for at least two more sweeps with only a snarl and an order to fuck off. Only then do you realize that you hold no real control on whether he lives or dies. You come to the conclusion that if you're to meet Death soon, you want to do it with a hand inside his rib-cage and with the taste of his blood at your lips.

_"Don’t flatter yourself, gillfuck." You said then, muttering the words between your teeth because you knew he was right. You hate him too much to let him die such a meaningless death. But he’s your no-strings-attached, sort-of kismesis and not your lover, and there are certain things you don’t say when your pail is tinted black instead of red. You’re cruel, but then again, so is he._

_“Your life isn’t anything to me. Your lifespan is barely a breath in mine…"_

_You cupped his head in your hands and kissed his smiling lips, bittersweet._

_“You will die when you're old and tired, and I’ll forget you."_

The extermination of rebels turns serious and he doesn’t trust you enough to come aboard your ship anymore. He's right not to do so, because the Empress has given you a special pair of shackles branded with his sign and no matter how much you hate him you would never go as far to defy Her by having him in your reach and letting him go.

Two sweeps pass and you die of blood loss in an empty cave by a clown’s carnival. Two sweeps and he lives to be twice your age, and forgets you instead.


End file.
